The Silence of the Llamas

by Anne Canadeo

  Dana took a pack of tissues from her bag and handed them over. “I’m glad to hear Ellie and Ben finally called the police. It’s about time. They reported all the incidents, I’m assuming?”

  “Yes, they did. A detective was coming by today to interview them and search the property for evidence. Did Ellie mention anything about that to you, Maggie?” Lucy asked.

  “She did. Guess who was assigned the case? Our old friend Detective Walsh.” Maggie sounded as if the name left a bad taste in her mouth.

  With good reason, Lucy knew. They all remembered Detective Walsh. He’d led the investigation of the murder of Amanda Goran, a knitting shop owner in their town who had been found dead in her store, her head bashed in by a hat block. It had all happened a little over a year ago now.

  With no solid evidence at all, Detective Walsh had fixed his sights on Maggie as his prime suspect and relentlessly dogged her. Of course, she was totally innocent.

  Luckily, Maggie’s knitting group friends had done some sleuthing of their own and discovered the real culprit. But Maggie still shuddered just thinking of those dark days and at the very mention of the bumbling, narrow-sighted lawman.

  “It makes sense in one way. He’s so incompetent; maybe he’s been demoted to murder cases of farm animals. He didn’t do too well with humans.” Suzanne was alternating between her knitting and bites of her dinner—a tasty mix of shrimp, broccoli, and mushrooms served over brown rice. “This is yummy, by the way,” she added, pointing her fork down at her plate.

  “Thank you,” Maggie replied. “And by the way, you’re probably right. Law enforcement is a tight-knit bunch. He’s too young to retire, and I guess they can’t fire him outright.”

  “So they’ve sort of sent him out to pasture?” Lucy knew the quip was corny, but she couldn’t resist.

  Phoebe held her head and groaned. “That was bad, Lucy. If you do that again, we might have to kick you out tonight anyway.”

  “Go ahead. But the muffins go with me, kiddo,” Lucy teased her back.

  “I thought it was cute,” Suzanne countered. “ ‘Out to pasture.’ Says it all to me.”

  “Case assignment is just the luck of the draw. Detectives are assigned cases as the calls come in,” Dana said knowingly. “Of course, there is some favoritism by department heads,” she added.

  “My hope that the police will find the menace who’s been harassing Ellie and Ben was significantly reduced when I heard Walsh’s name,” Maggie confided. “I didn’t tell Ellie that, of course.”

  “This could be a slam-dunk case, even for Detective Walsh, if Ellie and Ben are right. Ben even got into a shouting match with Ridley while we were there. He must have seen the police cars and wondered what was going on. He was standing in the woods at the property line,” Lucy explained, “just watching everything. With a gun tucked under his arm. It was really . . . creepy.”

  Phoebe cringed. “Ugh. . . . Sounds like a slasher movie.”

  “He had a gun? You’re kidding, right?” Suzanne dropped a needle in her lap and looked down to find it.

  Dana looked up from her work, too. “Maybe he was out hunting. Ellie and Ben said he did that at night a lot.”

  “Hunting poor defenseless llamas, sounds like to me,” Suzanne countered. “So they were yelling at each other?”

  Lucy nodded. She was trying to untangle the strands of yarn in her project, but it was starting to look even worse.

  “It got pretty nasty. Luckily the police were still there and broke it up,” Lucy reported. “Ridley does think that Ellie and Ben bought the farm to flip it over to investors when the open space laws expire. He said they were just sitting on the land to make a profit and flung a few other choice insults in the same vein at them.”

  “Do you know if the police found any evidence in the pasture today?” Dana asked Maggie. “Did Ellie mention anything?”

  “Ellie said they found some marks on the fence that were probably footprints of someone climbing over. And a track of footprints coming from the woods,” Maggie replied.

  “We heard about the marks on the fence last night,” Lucy said.

  “They may have found other physical evidence, too, that they didn’t tell her about,” Dana added.

  “I’m sure Detective Walsh has talked to Ridley,” Suzanne said. “That’s only logical.”

  Maggie glanced over at Lucy’s sweater vest and silently winced, then waved her hand in a “give it here” gesture. Lucy quickly handed it over.

  “Thanks, Maggie,” she practically whispered.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Maggie nearly shouted back. She peered down at the mess through her reading glasses. Lucy sensed the prognosis was not good.

  Dana turned her knitting over and examined the stitches. She was making a scarf for her stepson, Tyler, who was in his second year of college. She and Jack also had a son named Dylan, who was still in high school. They were all going to visit Tyler next weekend to watch his team in a lacrosse tournament, and the scarf’s stripes were his team colors.

  “It seems pretty simple to me,” Suzanne said. “Ridley does hate them, just like they said, and he can get on their property any time he wants to.”

  “That’s true,” Dana conceded. “But these situations are seldom as simple as they seem. It could be Ridley. Or it could be someone else, entirely unknown to Ellie and Ben. And their reasons for doing this unknown to the Kruegers, as well.”

  “Come to think of it, what about Angelica Rossi?” Suzanne asked. “Ellie talks about Angelica as a fairly hostile rival, even though Angelica acts like a big sweetie pie in public. Ellie said she smears Laughing Llama Farm every chance she gets. She probably wants them to clear out, too. I think her motives are even stronger than Ridley’s.”

  Maggie looked up from Lucy’s vest a moment. “I thought of Angelica, too. She doesn’t look it, but she’s a hard-nosed businesswoman. I used to carry her yarns, but she told me that she was going to start distributing only to shops that carried Sweet Meadow exclusively as their organic line. I wouldn’t agree, so that was that. No more Sweet Meadow yarns for me.”

  “She does sound like a tough cookie. But is she capable of doing all that nasty business with the paint gun at the fair? She did disappear into the crowd after we spoke to her at your booth,” Suzanne recalled. “I guess she could have managed that trick.”

  “All right . . . but killing a llama with her bare hands?” Lucy asked doubtfully.

  “Good point, Lucy,” Phoebe cut in. “She’d have to be a real pioneer woman. Not just dress like one.”

  “That is a good point.” Dana paused in her work and took another ball of yarn from her tote bag. “Stabbing a knife into an animal’s hide and muscle requires a certain amount of physical strength. Even a really fit woman, like Angelica, would have trouble. . . . But that still doesn’t mean it’s Ridley.”

  “He does have means, motive, and opportunity, Dana,” Maggie pointed out.

  Phoebe shook her head from side to side, the little mannerism she had when she got excited about something she wanted to say. “Yeah . . . but just because you have a weird neighbor doesn’t mean he’s out to get you. Look at Boo Radley in To Kill a Mockingbird. He turned out to be a pretty cool guy.”

  Phoebe had been studying the novel in a literature class. She’d been very moved by the book, and everything these days seemed to have some connection to the story. In this case, the comparison was not that far-fetched, Lucy thought.

  “Very true, Phoebe. I always loved that book. I should read it again.” Lucy glanced over Maggie’s shoulder, trying to see where she had gone so terribly wrong.

  Suzanne put her knitting down and sighed. “Oh, I loved that movie. Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch? He was so smart and quiet and strong. The way he just faced down that rabid dog and all that. . . . He was really yummy,” Suzanne said decidedly.

  “He was,” Maggie agreed. “That was the only novel Harper Lee ever published, isn’t that too bad?”

  �
��At least she wrote one great one. Justin Ridley does have a lot in common with Boo Radley,” Dana said thoughtfully. “Ellie and Ben say he only comes out of his house at night.”

  “Come on, that has to be an exaggeration. He’s not a vampire. They just don’t see him during the daytime,” Suzanne guessed.

  “Maybe,” Dana conceded. “But he could be agoraphobic or suffer from some variation of that condition,” she pointed out.

  “If he has as psychological block about leaving his house in the daylight, I wonder how he managed to stab the llama,” Lucy asked. “It wasn’t quite dark out when they called us, though it was by the time we arrived. But poor Daphne had been attacked well before that.”

  Dana shrugged. “It’s impossible to say since we don’t know him. I’m just giving Ellie and Ben the benefit of the doubt.”

  Dana was usually the most objective and dispassionate of all her friends and the most clear-sighted when trying to understand a complicated personality. Lucy wasn’t surprised, however, that she accepted Ellie’s impressions of Justin Ridley without question. Dana knew Ellie best, since their college days, and obviously respected her judgment.

  “I’ll tell you something else about Justin Ridley.” Suzanne sat back and put her knitting aside. “There was some buzz the other day in the office about the open space laws and the meeting coming up at the village hall. The Friends of Farmland are organizing a big protest. And we all know that Ridley is their head farmer. Even though he doesn’t actually grow anything,” she added. “Whatever. . . . My point is, he must have some social skills. He can’t be that much of a nut job and be able lead a big group like that, right?”

  Lucy looked to Dana for some comment, but she didn’t say anything, just calmly continued knitting.

  “It wouldn’t be the first time an unhinged fanatic attracted a following,” Maggie replied drily. “In fact, that seems to be a standard requirement for the job. The leader of just about every revolution in history was a social misfit of some kind.”

  “If you want to make an omelet you must be willing to break some eggs,” Phoebe piped up. Everyone looked over at her.

  “That was pretty random,” Lucy noted.

  “Lenin said that, sitting in a boxcar outside of Paris. Just before he returned to Russia to start their revolution,” Phoebe explained.

  “File under passionate fanatics,” Lucy noted.

  “Passionate or not, if the police discover that Ridley is responsible for the ill deeds at the farm, it will reflect very badly on the open space cause and his group,” Maggie pointed out.

  “That’s true, Maggie. He would be risking the reputation of his group,” Suzanne said.

  “And their moral authority,” Phoebe added.

  “True,” Dana agreed. “But someone like Ridley might also feel he’s invincible in some way, or too clever for the police to catch. It does sound as if he’s fixated on Ellie and Ben, and when people are that obsessed, they lose all perspective. And they convince themselves that the means justify the end.”

  “Even killing a poor defenseless llama,” Phoebe said quietly.

  “Even taking a human life.” Dana’s tone was grave, and a sudden hush fell over the room. “Not that I think it will ever come to that,” she added quickly.

  “Don’t even say it,” Suzanne scolded her.

  “That’s my point. I didn’t,” Dana defended herself. “Not really . . .”

  Maggie suddenly looked up from Lucy’s project. Had she made any progress with the big glob of yarn in the middle of the vest? Lucy couldn’t tell. “Ladies . . . I think it’s time for Lucy’s muffins and for us to talk about something else. Something a little more cheerful?”

  Lucy retrieved the dessert, which she’d brought in a plastic container. She set out the muffins carefully on a white china platter Maggie had brought in from the storeroom.

  “Those look super-scrumptious. You totally outdid yourself, Lucy.” Suzanne sat up in her seat and stuck the red sweater in her tote bag. She practically rubbed her hands together in glee, giving the muffins her full attention, Lucy noticed.

  Lucy passed Suzanne the platter first, and she carefully chose her treat. “Thank you, Lucy,” she said politely right before she took a huge bite.

  “Awesome muffins, Lucy. Really.” Phoebe took hers next, carefully peeled back the paper, and sniffed the icing before she took a bite, reminding Lucy of a little cat. A cute cat she might even like.

  Even Dana, who often passed up sweets without seeming tempted, did not let the muffins pass by without choosing one. “Well, it is some comfort to know that there are fresh vegetables in here.”

  “Some,” Lucy agreed. “And I did use low-fat cream cheese.”

  “Oh . . . in that case, I’ll have another. They’re not that big,” Suzanne noticed. She slowly peeled back the paper and cut the muffin in half with her fork. “I don’t know if this is a more cheerful subject or not, but the worst dieting months of the year are moving in, ladies. Like a huge tsunami of calories. From that pile of Halloween candy haunting me every night through November, to Christmas parties all over town and New Year’s Day brunch. If I didn’t have extra pairs of tummy-control jeans on hand, I’d only be coming out of the house at night, too.”

  “I can’t believe Christmas decorations are in some of the stores already. We haven’t even hit Halloween yet,” Lucy said.

  “The marketing machine really rushes our lives along. You have to stand your ground,” Dana advised. “I just want to focus on fall and be here now. I’m not ready to think about the holidays yet.”

  “I’m totally with you on that, Dana,” Maggie agreed. “But we have to think ahead knitting-wise. I’m starting a few classes this week with holiday gift projects.”

  “I’m ahead of the curve on this one, Maggie,” Phoebe promised. “I had this idea of how to do something nice for people. To get with the Christmas spirit and all that stuff? And I got this really cool project idea for us,” Phoebe said eagerly. She had quickly devoured her muffin and spoke while licking the icing off her fingertips.

  “Yes . . . go on. We’re all eager to hear it, Phoebe.” Maggie’s schoolteacher tone kicked in, gently coaxing Phoebe to get to the point.

  “I was going to make, like, a huge pile of socks—all different, amazing kinds—and sell them at school, in the student union and the bookstore and stuff. Then I was going to donate all the money to a charity.”

  “What a nice idea. That’s great, Phoebe.” Suzanne smiled at her and sounded sincerely impressed.

  “But wait . . . I have an even better spin on it. You guys can be knitting philanthropists, too.”

  “Knitting philanthropist? It has a nice ring,” Maggie murmured.

  “I’ve always wanted to be a philanthropist of some kind.” Lucy smiled at the terminology.

  “Well, what if we all knit up a bunch of really nice, but fast stuff? Like mittens and scarves and headbands and maybe little purses?” Phoebe asked them.

  “Okay, go on,” Maggie coaxed. “We knit fast, small projects. Then what?”

  “We sell this stuff all over the place. In this shop and around town. Like maybe Edie would put a basket on the counter at the Schooner. Or down at the Book Review? And we get a lot of money, and we help a family like in a third world country start . . . a llama farm.” She paused and looked around the table at her friends, her dark eyes wide and bright. “Wouldn’t that be like totally awesome?”

  Phoebe was so excited she practically jumped out of her seat. Her friends glanced around at one another. No one said a word for a long moment.

  Maggie was the first to speak. “I like the part about raising money with little projects we knit and sell. But how can we buy a llama herd for a family in some distant country? We can’t just pack them up and FedEx them somewhere.”

  “Funny, Mag. You’re kidding, right? That’s the easiest part. Wait . . . I’ll show you . . .” She reached under the table and leafed through her big leather knapsack, then
pulled out a dark red pamphlet with the photo of sheep on the front. “Heifer International—ever hear of it?”

  Phoebe held out the pamphlet and passed it around. Dana was the first to take it in hand. “Oh, sure, I get this once in a while. It’s a great organization. They help people around the world lift themselves out of poverty with small-scale businesses that improve the economy of the entire community.”

  “You can buy, like, two baby chicks or a sheep . . . or an ox. Or an entire ark, see?” Phoebe showed them the pictures. “The llamas are in the back. Aren’t they cute? They’re only a hundred and fifty dollars each. I think that’s a pretty good deal, don’t you? I thought we could raise enough money to buy two or three?”

  “Let me see.” Maggie took the pamphlet and scanned the pages with interest. “I’ve seen this catalog before, too. But I never had a brainstorm like that one, Phoebe. I think that’s an excellent goal for our group. I’m sure we can sell some items here, and some other shops in town will take them, too. I’ll ask around.”

  “I’d love to take part. As long you don’t ask me to make anything that’s argyle,” Lucy warned. “I’ll start right now.”

  “Me, too,” Suzanne agreed, then turned to smile at Lucy. “Are you really going to abandon Matt’s vest?”

  “Not abandon it . . . just put it aside awhile. This is a good cause. He’ll understand.” Lucy knew he would understand, but she was also secretly relieved to take a break from the vest. It had shaken her knitting confidence. Some fast, simple projects were the perfect way to get her mojo back.

  “I want to start tonight, too. In fact, I’ll donate this scarf,” Dana said, looking down at the project, which was almost complete except for a few binding rows and some fringe on the ends. “Tyler will make a fuss when I give it to him. But I know he’ll just stuff it in a drawer somewhere and hardly ever wear it. I’ll figure out something else he might like better.”

  “I’m so glad you guys like my idea. I’m totally psyched,” Phoebe bounced in her seat.